Page 81 of Ruthless Intent

“Do you know what the morning routine in a maximum security prison is?” I circle around her and rip the T-shirt until it’s freed from the cuffs. She flinches at the sound. I know what she’s thinking, what she’s expecting me to do.

But she’s wrong. She has no fucking idea what I’m going to do.

“Every morning, without fail, two guards come in. You have to be off the bed, naked, with your hands behind your head. One of the guards searches the cell, the other searches you. It’s called ‘cough, drop, and squat.’ Sometimes, if an inmate is particularly dangerous, they do a cavity search.”

I move around until I’m standing in front of her again. “That wasn’t part of my plan, but I’m beginning to think I might need to watch my back with you.” I grip her chin. “Open your mouth.”

“No.”

“Do you think I won’t force you?”

Her lips are white with how hard she’s pressing them together. I squeeze her jaw, smile, then pinch her nose closed.

“How long can you hold your breath? Because I have nowhere else to be for the next eight hours.”

Almost two minutes pass before she gasps and opens her mouth to take a breath. I release her nose and force my fingers into her mouth, forcing her to open it wide.

“If you bite me, I’ll make this ten times worse.”

I probe inside, running my fingers over her teeth, and push her tongue to one side to check beneath it. Once I’m done, I release her, stoop to grab her ruined T-shirt, and use it to wipe my fingers.

“Are you going to behave, or do I need to bend you over the bed, and search everywhere else?”

“You wouldn’t dare!” She’s lost all color in her face.

“Try me.”

When she doesn’t move, I nod. Wrapping a hand around her arm, I half-lead, half-drag her to the bed. Shoving her face down, I crouch and pull the jeans over her feet. She’s down to her underwear now. My eyes zero in on the small tattoo on her shoulder. It’s a bird. A kingfisher in bright blues and reds, its wings outstretched.

“No! No, I’ll behave. I swear I’ll behave.”

My attention snaps back to the woman in front of me.

“Please, Zain. Please don’t do this. I’ll behave.”

She won’t. Once she thinks she’s safe, she’ll push again. But for now, I’ve scared her.

I let her go, and she struggles to straighten, and turn.

“”Move.” I step to one side so she can pass me.

“I need clothes.”

“You had the chance for that. You can try again tomorrow.” I ignore her protests, wrap my hands around the chain linking the cuffs, and push her out of the room, along the hallway, and down the stairs.

When we’re in the kitchen, I force her down onto a chair.

“You can either sit there willingly, or I’ll tie you to it. You’re going to watch a video, and then you can have breakfast.”

I flip open the laptop, and press play on her police interview.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

ASHLEY

Every time I think he can’t possibly get any worse, he proves me wrong.

I’m starting to wonder if the years he spent incarcerated has driven him insane. That’s the only possible reason that makes sense for the way he’s behaving.

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